Other Men Have Seen Angels But I Have Seen Thee
by themetaphornextdoor
Summary: Who would have thought letting go would feel so good. Dean/Castiel slash, NC-17, PWP, 870 words.


**Title:** Other Men Have Seen Angels (But I Have Seen Thee)

**Author:** isasminion

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel

**Genre:** PWP, Romance, Established Relationship

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word Count:** 871

**Warnings:** Sex (obviously), Some Language, Schmoop

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.

**Summary:** Who would have thought letting go would feel so good.

**Author Notes:** Just some smut. Kind of fluffy. Unbeta'd. To further confirm my unhealthy obsession with quotes, the title is borrowed from: "_Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough_." by George Moore.

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><p>He wasn't sure how long they'd been like this – ten, maybe fifteen minutes. But in the land of sex, it seemed like hours. His body felt like a furnace, coiled in knots of heat and need. It burned deep in his belly. Urgent and demanding.<p>

Cas moved behind and above him, steady and rhythmic. His chest slid against Dean's back with every gentle roll of his hips. Dean's breath had made the pillow beneath him damp, and the sheets were sticky wet where his erection was trapped under him, leaking steadily.

Dean's legs were almost closed, his cheeks clenched and the sheer amount of skin contact was was different in this position. Cas felt bigger inside him. Not as deep, but he felt stretched wider than ever before, spread open and _taken_ as Cas rocked into him.

He could feel every inch of the angel above him. Lean, strong, muscles tensing and relaxing with each movement. Cas' knees pressed against the outside of his own, holding his weight. Ankles hooked inside his, and strong arms were wrapped around his chest, fingers clenching into his flesh as though Cas was struggling to hold himself back. His whole frame clung to Dean like he might disappear at any moment.

Cas' heavy breathing was loud in his ear, lips occasionally brushing his neck, mouthing words with no sound.

Neither of them had said anything since breakfast, since Cas pushed him against the counter and stole his oxygen with a burning kiss that had them grinding against each other and somehow fumbling back to the bed with half closed eyes.

Dean wanted to tell Cas to move faster, harder. He might have even considered begging, but he didn't. Some small, unspoken part of him relished the fact they were actually _making love_, not just fucking.

Who would have thought.

It was no less tender for the fact they weren't face to face. If anything, it was just as powerful. Dean gave himself over, let himself be held down by a frighteningly strong body. He moved when and how Cas wanted him to move, breathed only because of Cas' restraint when he could so easily destroy him with his weight or a carelessly placed hand.

Cas had his trust, his control, his body, Cas had everything.

Dean never would have guessed that letting go would feel good. And the fear that came with losing control had slowly morphed from panic to thrill. It had his spine tingling every time Cas touched him, made his climaxes almost violent in their intensity ever since the moment he'd surrendered to this thing that had been building between them.

The fact that Cas was still waiting and hadn't given up was a miracle. For a stubborn, hard headed and intrinsically impatient being, he'd had amazing patience as he watched Dean ignore and deny for so long.

Cas hadn't sped up his thrusts or changed his rhythm at all, and Dean was caught off guard when he felt him throb and seize as liquid heat pulsed inside him. The slow build had brought Cas to the edge, quiet but continued grinding into Dean as he twitched and breathed small sounds that sounded like aborted sobs**.** He'd barely begun to soften when Dean followed, taken by surprise and stunned silent by the wave of pleasure that ripped through him. He clenched hard and shivered as Cas' come leaked out of him, trickling hot and sticky over his balls to join the sweat drenching the sheets below them.

There were still no words between them as they parted to lie side by side, chests heaving. They didn't need words. Not today. And they didn't need to look at each other for reassurance, to confirm what they'd done or how they felt. It was unlike any relationship Dean had experienced. If you could call a string of one night stands relationships. But even then there were expectations – a shared glance after sex, a smile, maybe a soft kiss before one of them got up and left. That was how it went.

But he and Cas had spent years having conversations with their eyes, unknowingly expressing their feelings through posture and proximity. The fact Cas was next to him, sweating, breathing, _staying_ - that Dean was next to Cas, thinking, feeling, _staying_… it said more than anyone could ever say out loud, more than any clichéd, 'soulful gaze' could convey.

Cas' hand swept down Dean's torso and curled around his inner thigh, lying heavy and warm in the crease where his leg met his groin.

Dean sighed and his eyelids drooped, begging to close. The only sound was steady breathing, and the occasional murmur of distant traffic. Cas' shoulder and hip were fever hot where they pressed against him, moving just barely with each breath the angel didn't need, but wanted to take anyway.

The slow whir of the ceiling fan had begun to dry the sweat – and everything else – that had left their skin wet and tacky. Dean shivered slightly, but ignored it. He closed his eyes to the mess and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Cas turned his head to stare at him and couldn't help a gentle smile.


End file.
